


Forgive, But Don't Forget

by Joanne_Lupin



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: (nothing is described in great detail but please be safe!!), Canonical Character Death, Car Accidents, Child Neglect, F/F, Gen, Tattoos, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 08:37:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12055275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joanne_Lupin/pseuds/Joanne_Lupin
Summary: Val likes to imagine Robert, with his weathered leather jacket and pocket knife collection, feeding ice cream to a sobbing baby with bleeding earlobes. She thinks maybe he could have been a good father.





	Forgive, But Don't Forget

**Author's Note:**

> I have a whole bunch of headcanons. Now they're a fic.

When Val was young, she always begged her mother to tell her the story of how she got her ears pierced. She’d tell it with a slight tone of irritation that Val thought was hilarious when she was 9 or 10, before she started recognizing that same tone in her own voice. 

“I let him take you out alone for _one_ afternoon— just a couple hours— and when he brings you home, you have holes in your ears! You were barely a year old! What was he _thinking_?”

Val had been happy Robert had done it when she was younger. She’d always been terrified of needles, so she never thought, at 9 or 10, that she’d have the guts to go through it if given the choice. Now she wonders where that fear of needles came from. 

Robert told her she’d cried when it happened, but then he’d bought her a scoop of ice cream, and she was fine after that. Val likes to imagine Robert, with his weathered leather jacket and pocket knife collection, feeding ice cream to a sobbing baby with bleeding earlobes. She thinks maybe he could have been a good father.

-o0o-

It was raining the night Marilyn died. Val hugged her knees to her chest on the front steps of the school and watched the cars pass by. It wasn’t the first time her dad was late to pick her up, nor would it be the last. 

Val was surprised to see her mother in the driver’s seat when her ride finally pulled up. She said as much.

“I’m so sorry, honey. I had a late meeting, so I only just got your dad’s message.”

“What message?” Val asked, picking up on her irritation.

“He couldn’t drive you home because he’d had too much to drink,” Marilyn explained curtly. She rubbed her temple. “I mean, thank god he’s not driving while _drunk_ , especially in rain like this, but…” She huffed, signaling the end of the conversation.

Val wished her mother felt she could talk to her about Robert. She was beginning to understand, beginning to be let down the way her mother had been since she and Robert had first gotten together. She didn’t understand why Marilyn stayed all those years. Val was so afraid it was because of her.

-o0o-

One of the hardest lessons Val has ever had to learn is that failure is always a possibility. You can do everything right, down to the letter, and still fail. 

They had the right-of-way at that stoplight. They were obeying all laws and signals. But they were still hit.

Val was a model patient. She toughed out every procedure, and spoke to the hospital therapist when her doctors insisted, and refused to scream or cry or express any unsightly emotions. But Robert never stayed at the hospital longer than he absolutely had to. 

She kept playing on the volleyball team. She got good grades. She earned a scholarship to an amazing school where she could study photography. But she and Robert barely ever spoke after her mother’s death.

-o0o-

Robert was nearly always either drunk or drinking. Val was terrified of cars after the accident, but she forced herself to learn how to drive as soon as she could, just so that she never had to rely on her father being sober enough to get behind the wheel. Val was just thirteen when her mother died, but by fourteen, she’d become the adult of the Small household. 

The other dads in the cul-de-sac helped when they could, despite most of them having young children and their own shit to deal with. Mr. Vega knew to talk to Val about school stuff that the other kids would forward to their parents, and he made sure to put it simply enough for her to understand. Mr. Sella always seemed to have extra coffee and baked goods— free of charge, even though the coffee shop was just starting up— when she stopped in to study. Mr. Bloodmarch invited her to afternoon tea and let her ramble on about whatever she needed to get off her chest. (And she’ll never be able to repay him for dropping by one day Val’s senior year with the ugliest Boston Terrier puppy she’d ever seen and practically _forcing_ Robert to adopt her.) All three of them paid her to babysit their kids. 

It wasn’t quite the same as having her own dad, but she doesn’t know how she would’ve survived high school without them. 

-o0o-

“You’re just so _frustrating_ sometimes, Val!” Lindsey cried, pacing Val’s apartment. “It’s like I don’t have a girlfriend; I have a cat.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It _means_ that you’re aloof. You know so much about me, but I hardly know anything about you. I don’t even know where you’re from!” She sniffled. “Why don’t you want to open up to me?”

Val stood. She’d heard this conversation before, from Marci and Nadine and Sydney. Bee’d said the same thing, nearly word-for-word. 

“I think you should go.”

“Val—”

“You don’t get it. You never will.”

-o0o-

Val never set out to dress like her father. But Robert was great at pushing people away, and that was exactly what Val wanted to do. If she looked as hard and sharp on the outside as she felt on the inside, no one would expect anything else from her. She couldn’t stand falling for someone who couldn’t handle her— not again.

(Dressing this way also stopped her from getting groped as much in bars, so that was a plus.)

-o0o-

Val’s neighbor’s stupid cat kept sneaking into her apartment. She had no idea how. After the third time, Amy gave her her number and told her to text if it ever happened again. 

It happened again. And again, and again, and again.

“I’m so sorry this keeps happening. I think he likes you. Can I make it up to you? I made way too much spaghetti, anyway.”

Soon, Val was having dinner at Amy’s apartment at least once a week. 

-o0o-

“You know, when I first met you, I had a laughing fit, like, as soon as you left.”

“Why?” Val asked indignantly over her glass of wine.

“Well, you were wearing spiked _everything_ and six-inch heels, and, like, you just gave off this super-intimidating vibe…”

“Thank you.”

Amy laughed. “I mean, I meant that in an ‘I’m seriously scared for my life’ way as much as I meant it in a ‘please step on me’ way.”

Val blushed, but managed a deadpan, “Good.”

“But with all that, you were holding Bart at arm’s length, like he was a time bomb or something!”

“I’m not used to cats,” Val grumbled.

“You love Bart,” Amy teased.

“I hate Bort.”

“But I just thought it was so funny,” Amy continued, waving Val’s comment away. “You’ve got this tough-chick look down to a tee, and I have no doubt that you legitimately could kill a man if you wanted—” 

“I have.”

“— _but_ there you were, looking like you’d rather be anyplace else in the world, but sticking out to make sure some stranger didn’t lose her cat.”

“I wanted him out of my apartment.”

“You wanted to make sure he got home okay.”

Val considered this for a moment. “My ex-girlfriend told me dating me was like having a cat. She said I was too _aloof_.”

Amy reached for Val’s sharp, manicured hand. “They’re not aloof,” she said. “You just have to let them come to you.”

-o0o-

Amy has a beautiful floral tattoo over her collarbone. Val likes to trace over the lines of it when they’re alone together. 

“Do you want one?” Amy asked one night, when the moonlight bounced off her dark skin in that way Val could never quite catch with a camera lens. 

Val cringed. “I don’t like needles.”

“No one does,” Amy replied. 

Val rolled her eyes. “I mean, I _really_ don’t like needles.”

“But if you weren’t scared—” Val made a derisive noise. “—would you get one?”

Val thought for a moment. “Yeah… Maybe…”

-o0o-

“I want to give him another chance— I mean, he’s doing so much better! I think he’s earning it. But… it’s hard.” 

“What’s hard about it?” Dr. Polya asked— not judgmentally, but analytically.

“It feels like… Like forgiving him means I just have to forget about a whole bunch of shitty stuff that happened because of him. And I don’t _want_ to forget it, because it made me the person I am today.”

“No one’s asking you to forget,” Dr. Polya replied. “Do you think your father has forgotten how much he hurt you? I’m sure he hasn’t. If he wants to heal, he has to forgive himself. But he can’t forget what he did— otherwise, how would he learn?”

-o0o-

“Amy, we have to go to the tattoo place. Right now.”

“What?”

“I can’t go alone because I need you to hold my hand, and we need to go _right now_ so I don’t chicken out.”

Amy laughed, letting Val pull her down the street. “Okay, okay!”

-o0o-

“Amy, do you like pineapple on pizza?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you’re not just saying that because you want to get into my daughter’s pants, right?”

“ _Dad!_ ”

“No, sir. The first time I ordered us pizza, I got pineapple, and I think Val nearly cried.”

“I did not!”

Amy laughed and returned Val’s playful swat. Robert sat at the table, setting the pizza box between the three of them. 

“Whatcha got there, Val?” he asked, gesturing to her arm. 

Val hiked up her sleeve to reveal her new tattoo, which sat on her forearm, just before her elbow:

“ _Forgive, but_  
 _don’t forget._ ”

“It’s… a reminder,” Val explained.

Robert nodded, smiling. “A reminder… I like it. Maybe I should get one.”

Val thinks maybe he could be a good father.


End file.
